Monday, October 6, 2008

The Best $40 You'll Ever Spend

Did you ever want to be the main character in a love story? Now you can! I found a website that allows you to be the main character in an undoubtedly-steamy romance by putting in names and details. After paying only $39.95, you'll be sent a copy of your very own novel entitled Click for Love.

I decided to try out the free preview, and I had quite a bit of fun putting in the important information. You know, heroine's name: Lindsay With an A; hero's name: John Keats. The usual. I even got to pick the heroine's friend's name, so keep an eye out for Chatty Cathy's appearance in the scenes below.


Lindsay is persuaded to give online dating a try:

Lindsay viewed Cathy suspiciously, with a brown-eyed gaze as she grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and joined her friend in front of the computer.
“What are you up to?” she asked knowing Cathy all too well.
“It’s Discreet Dates dot com.”
“Yeah, so.”
Cathy turned, with a mischievous grin.
“No, Cathy! I told you, I’m done!”
“Okay, so don’t get mad yet,” she pleaded.
“No way, Cathy! Never again! Remember all that talk about trying too hard?”
“Well, I didn’t say don’t try at all! I’m worried about you. You haven’t been on a date in nearly a year-”
“Six months and I haven’t had time. Cathy, we have to get our new business off the ground,” Lindsay protested, running a hand through her brown hair.
Cathy ignored her friend’s interruption, not missing a beat, “Seriously, Lindsay, I’m thinking you're turning into a hermit and it's time to drag you out of your shell!”
“You’re exaggerating, as usual. Besides, the memory of Melroy bringing his mother on our
first date still haunts me.”
“I think Discreet Dates can help."
not so gentle reader and Say No to TB: An anonymous online chat

not so gentle reader: Why are men so infuriating?
Say No to TB: If you can tell me why women are so bewildering then maybe I can answer your question.
Lindsay gazed at the screen of her laptop as she sat at the head of her bed, still dressed in her robe, sipping coffee.
not so gentle reader: The age-old argument. I guess we’ll never figure it out.
Say No to TB: What fun would it be if we did? I mean if I knew the mystery of why the sight of a beautiful woman makes me weak and warm all over, or why her scent and the touch of her velvety skin on mine drives me wild with desire, maybe the magic would be lost.
Stirred by his words Lindsay inhaled deeply before responding.
not so gentle reader: Good point… but I still hate men sometimes.
Say No to TB: There’s a fine line between love and hate, not so gentle reader. You’ve just got to figure out how, and when, to cross it.

Lindsay and John Keats: A Chance Meeting at a Coffee Shop

“Can I get your coffee?” John offered, his striking brown eyes locked onto hers as they both moved to the front of the line.
“No, really that’s okay. You’ve done enough. Thanks for helping things along. I would've been stuck in this line forever.”
“Nonsense,” he replied, and then spoke to the barista. “Large coffee, black please, and a...”
“I’ll have the same with a little cream,” she said, pushing an errant strand of brown hair from her forehead.
When the barista turned to prepare their drinks, John offered his hand to Lindsay. “John Keats.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Keats. I guess chivalry isn’t dead. I’m Lindsay With-An-A,” she replied taking his hand in hers and feeling her skin warm to his touch. Her brown eyes conveyed a spark from within and Lindsay felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of his smile.
“Um…I was just wondering,” he hesitated, “would you like to meet for coffee again here tomorrow? A little earlier and we could probably get a table.”
Lindsay smiled, pleasantly surprised by the invitation. In contrast to her usual cautionary nature, she decided to take a chance – there was just something about this man...

A Little Heat in the Back of a Limo:

John slid in beside Lindsay in the back of the silver, stretch limousine and within moments they were locked in a passionate kiss. Briefly pulling away from him Lindsay reached to the door and hit the button raising the glass partition and then returned to run her fingers through his dark brown hair.
“Its been a long time, John,” she whispered seductively, as she pressed her parted lips against his. He felt the smooth wetness of the gloss from her lips reignite the stirring in his body that had been smoldering all night. His desire could not be contained and he reached up pulling her closer, feeling her silky smoothness. Not to be outdone, Lindsay removed his bow tie and began to quickly unfasten the buttons on his shirt as John lifted her dress, and pulled her over him, her legs straddling his lap.
“Lindsay,” John moaned raggedly, as she released the button securing his pants.


Um, yeah, that might have been sexy if it weren't the worst writing I've seen in a long, long time. I mean, seriously? If I guy IM'ed me and said, "I mean if I knew the mystery of why the sight of a beautiful woman makes me weak and warm all over, or why her scent and the touch of her velvety skin on mine drives me wild with desire, maybe the magic would be lost," I think I might fall out of my chair laughing. My fictitious counterpart seems to be settling for badly written cliches.

But, on the other hand, if you're involved with an incurable romantic who would find something like this moving rather than revolting, you should definitely consider buying him/her a copy for Christmas (available at . I'm sure you'll be the hero of the hour.


Chatty Cathy said...

Ha ha...I love it! So what if it has the typical, badly written cliches, you got to get frisky with the love of your life in the back of a pimped out silver limo! By the way, Cathy setting you up on Discreet is very similar to you guys trying to sign me up for My Space without me knowing...I guess the tables have turned.

Anonymous said...

I felt gross reading this.

No kudos for you.

"We couldn't possibly do that! Who'd clear up the mess?" :O

Lindsay-with-an-A said...

Oh, you don't like to read about your sister making kinky love in the back of a stretch limo with a dead poet? Boo hoo.

Anonymous said...

It'd probably be even more kinky lovemaking if your brother did want to read it.

Lindsay-with-an-A said...

You're lucky--the first name I put in was Christopher Marlowe.

I can feel you wretching from here. Bwa ha ha!

Daniele said...

wow...not that I don't enjoy smut from time to time, but I don't think I'd be able to get through the first chapter if the writing is all like that...although the image of you and Keats in the back of a limo almost did have me rolling on the floor laughing. You should have gone with Yeats, when he got old and impotent he got testicle transplants from a monkey. No joke, I heard it from an English major on St Patrick's Day when we got drunk and read Irish literature (yes James Joyce was read, and with a terrible impression of an Irish accent).

Lindsay-with-an-A said...

Nothing like monkey testicles to stir a girl's passions.

And you HAVE to read James Joyce with a bad Irish accent if you're an American. It's the law.

Homero said...

Joyce wrote very naughty letters to his wife during his travels-- these would make Larry Flynt blush (probably not, but you get the idea)Those ones are just lame.

Lindsay-with-an-A said...

I don't mind naughty at all. It's bad that I have a problem with. :)

My blog said...

Good lord, Linds . . .

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